The Kruton Interface by John Dechancie Page B

bridge!”
    “So-o-o-rry,” Darvona said, still grinning.
    Sven Svensen coughed elaborately, then flashed a devilish smile at Darvona.
    “ You keep quiet,” she told him.
    Rhodes glanced at the chronometric readout on his left thumbnail. “Now that you mention it, what the devil is keeping him?”
    “He will be along shortly, I am thinking,” Dr. O’Gandhi predicted. “And he will be feeling much better.”
    “Oh?” Rhodes elevated one eyebrow. “You gave him happy pills?”
    “Begorrah, I am giving him a great shitload of happy pills.”
    “Uh-oh.”
    “Plus a wee bit o’ th’ grape, by Jesus, Mary, and Krishna.”
    “Oh, God,” Rhodes said. He sighed. “Then again, maybe it’ll be an improvement over suicidal depression.”
    “I would really like to know,” Sven Svensen said, “why the rest of the enlisted personnel were shuttled planet side. What are we going to do for a crew?”
    “Captain’s orders,” Rhodes said simply. “We have automatic systems that can run this ship.”
    “A human crew always does it better.”
    “You can say that again,” Darvona agreed.
    “Sure, a human crew is best,” Mr. Rhodes said. “Except in our case, I’m afraid. In any event, our people will have to make the best of it down there.”
    Lt. Warner-Hillary said, “Yeah, well, I’ve been talking to a few of the warrant officers. Things’re getting pretty ugly planetside. I mean, there’s only so much mud you can hump.”
    “I’d give anything to be down there with them,” Darvona said dreamily.
    Warner-Hillary tapped a finger against her data screen. “Report here says that fights are breaking out, even among the enlisted women.”
    Rhodes shrugged. “Regrettable, but it can’t be helped.”
    Just then, from the drop tube came a hollow thud and a peevish voice that said, “Ouch, dammit!”
    “What was that?” Rhodes said.
    “Th’ parastatics’ve gang agley again,” Sadowski said, striding purposefully toward a small hatch that led to an access bay.
    “That’s the captain!” Sven said.
    As Sadowski disappeared inside the access bay, Rhodes went to the mouth of the transparent tube and hollered up, “Captain Wanker?”
    “That’s Vahn-ker!”
    “Sorry, sir. Are you hung up in there?”
    Wanker’s voice rang hollowly. “No, just thought I’d sit awhile in something that evokes a human colon.”
    “Oh. You’re stuck.”
    “Oh, no. This environment is very conducive to meditation.”
    “You don’t sound far away, sir. Sadowski has gone to find out what’s wrong. Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can fiddle with these controls.”
    With the heel of his hand, Rhodes hit the pad marked BLOW. Air whooshed from the tube.
    “How’s that, sir?”
    “Didn’t do anything.”
    “Oh. Well, let me try the suck option.”
    The first officer hit the pad labeled SUCK. Air was drawn into the tube.
    “Ouch,” came the reply up-tube.
    “Sucking doesn’t work either, sir?”
    “No. Tell you what, blow a little more.”
    Rhodes did. “Negative function, sir. Any ideas?”
    “What the hell, give it another suck.”  
    Rhodes tried that again. “Any better, sir?”  
    “I’ve moved a little. Try another suck.”  
    “How’s that, sir?”  
    “So-so. Blow me again.”  
    “Aye-aye, sir. Any luck?”  
    “Not much.”
    “Sir, which helps more, sucking or blowing?”
    “Well, I like sucking a little better.”
    “Sir, it must be the parastatic generators. There’s no parastatic field inside the tube. You’re probably hung up at an elbow.”
    “Oh, is that what this is? Try giving me a blow job again.”
    “Sir, I think we’re just going to have to wait for Sadowski.”
    “To hell with that kilted Polack. Get me out of this tube!”
    “Yes, sir. With respect, sir, I should remind you that Forces regulations specifically proscribe ethnic slurs and intimidation.”
    “Quit moralizing, you pious idiot. Do something!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The rest of the bridge complement had